


The Wolf in the Woods

by TangledFables



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dancing, Did I mention angst, Dread Wolf, Elfy elves, Elven Gods, Elves, F/M, Fighting, Frustration, In the Fade, Jealousy, Post Game, Pregnancy, Sexual Tension, Sexy Dancing, Soooo much angst, Spirits, Spirits / Demons, Spoilers, The Fade, Violence, little bit smutty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4205610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TangledFables/pseuds/TangledFables
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>***SET POST GAME WITH MAJOR SPOILERS***</p><p>Fen'Harel wanders the Fade searching for a way to put right his mistakes, desperately trying not to think about the love he left behind. When he stumbles across her dream, though, he cannot help but be drawn in...</p><p>*Notes at the end of each chapter*</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wolf in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Halla and the Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778812) by [ObsidianMichi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianMichi/pseuds/ObsidianMichi). 



The great white wolf stalked through the trees, following long forgotten trails. The woods echoed his mood as the dream world shaped itself around his unconscious desires. Enormous trees loomed, taller than the stone towers of Tarasyl'an Te'las, and dry, dead leaves cracked under his paws.

His eyes narrowed against the unnatural light filtering weirdly through the dense canopy. The feel of this place still, even after all his years of exploring the fade, sent his nerves tingling, energising his senses and sending a shiver down his spine until snowy fur stood up in ridges along his back. He never felt so alive as he did in dreams.

Around him he felt the threads of other dreamers’ thoughts tugging at his mind. They brushed against his consciousness as swirling fragments, half-realised fears or fantasies, like whispers on the wind.

They were distractions, tempting him from his task, and he ignored them. He searched deeper into the fabric of the fade, calling up echoes from the past, the clues that could lead him to his goal. His redemption was within reach and he had sacrificed so much - _far too much_ , whispered the traitorous voice in his head - to undo his mistakes. He would not stray from the path again.

He felt a ripple in the fabric of the world and the nature of the forest changed. The monstrously tall trees shrank down to a more mundane size, their leaves swelling from sharp spines to bobbing pads. Blossoms exploded onto branches and sat nodding in a balmy breeze, filling the air with heady perfume. He tilted his muzzle upwards, savouring the fragrant air with his keen senses. The sharp light of the raw fade softened into pleasant summer sunlight and a soft cushion of green moss spread along the barren ground under his paws.

He had stumbled into a dream. A powerful dream to have absorbed him so quickly. Despite his reservations, he felt a pang of curiosity and allowed it to draw him forward, closer to the dreamer.

Ahead, he saw a meadow dotted with wildflowers. In the centre knelt a figure, half hidden by the tall grass. The wolf stopped at the edge of the clearing, fading into in the shadow of the canopy. Something was familiar about the figure and he felt his heart turn over in his chest.

It couldn’t be her. She was no mage, she could not have brought him into her dream without his intervention. It was not possible.

But the figure stood and he saw that well remembered frame, that same flashing hair, the face now bare of the slave tattoos she had worn for so long. She still used that method of balancing on her toes as she rose that made her look like a bird about to take flight. She looked younger in the bright sunlight and simple elven dress she wore.

The anchor. The well. It suddenly dawned on him. Of course he would be drawn into her dream if they were close enough in the physical world, they were bound together by Mythal’s magic and his own. She wouldn’t even know he was here. He started to shift back into the forest. She would never have to know that he had visited her, he would not inflict that pain.

Movement caught his eye. There was another figure in the meadow and he froze. Conflicting waves of emotion paralysed him as he stared at the elvhen man walking towards his vhenan. It was a perfect replica of the man he had shown her, dressed in the dull, comfortable clothes he had favoured during his time with the inquisition. His wolf-jaw necklace dangled around the impostor’s neck.

Outrage and disgust forced a growling whine from his throat, only to be chased away by sorrow, shame and a guilty shred of joy that she still dreamed of him. Without meaning to, he paced closer to the treeline, transfixed by the figures in the meadow.

The man stopped when he was a metre away from Lavellan and stood silently watching her. There was a motionless beat and then, in unison, the couple shifted into formal dancing poses. Her arms floated up above her head, wrists gently flicking, in an imitation of halla horns. His posture curved over, mimicking a stalking wolf.

His vhenan began a slow, soft beat, thumping her foot to the earth and delicately arching her leg like a hoof pawing at the ground while the man stalked closer smooth as silk. The tension between them thrummed through the air like a living thing and their eyes were locked together.

Fen’Harel felt a sick pit open deep in his gut. Every instinct screamed at him to break from the treeline and take his proper place in the dance. To take his place in her life. Only his long weary years practicing self-control kept him planted in the shadows of the forest.

The man’s hand snaked around her waist, drawing her closer, but Lavellan twisted, using the impetus of his touch to twirl away, arching into a graceful curve as she sprang out of his grasp. For a moment, she floated through the air alone, her skirts a bright banner behind her. Then, he followed close to curl around her once more.

Again and again, the couple separated and came together, the Halla fleeing and the Wolf pursuing, but always there was a connection between them. Unspoken and unacknowledged, their bodies complemented each other perfectly. Passion, love, frustration and humour were told in the lightest of touches, a moment of closeness, a shared breath, as the dance went on.

The wolf watched them from his sheltered misery, wishing he could tear his eyes away from the hopeless fantasy of his lost love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm not sure if I'm ever going to finish this but I just love that Solas angst and wanted to get something down. Originally inspired by another fic (The Halla and the Wolf - ObsidianMichi) which also features Lavellan dancing the Fen'harel story.
> 
> Please let me know if you have any constructive criticism/suggestions! And if you ever want me to tag anything, let me know, I'm happy to include any TW or tags that I might have forgotten.
> 
>  
> 
> Elvish Translation:
> 
> Tarasyl'an Te'las - Skyhold (or literally: "the place where the sky was held back.")
> 
> Vhenan - heart. A term of endearment for a lover.
> 
> Halla - Deer-like creature, kept by the Dalish elves.


End file.
